Grimmoire
by EnvyIsMySin
Summary: 4- She was now corrupted. Twisted, broken, corrupted beyond return. A patched-up plastic doll, with a stitched-on smile. 100 Themes Challenge.
1. Introduction

**A/N: Alrighty then! I'm gonna try my hand at the 100 themes challenge, and (hopefully) finish. This should be.. interesting.**

**Also, I've been writing a lot more lately, as you can see from my 3 Repo!fics in the past 2 days. Dunno why, but hopefully it lasts!**

**Anyways, here I go!**

* * *

><p><strong>100 Themes Challenge<strong>

_1. Introduction - Life's a Fairy Tail_

_"Whether fairies have tails or not, or whether they even exist, nobody knows for sure. So it's like an eternal mystery, an eternal adventure." _-Makarov, Fairy Tail

* * *

><p><em>Once upon a time,<em> there was a land not much unlike our own. In fact, it was practically identical to ours.

That is, until the world took a turn for the worst.

Epidemic and disease spread across the land. The sky darkened with sorrow as thousands, maybe even millions dropped like flies, from a disease that spread from the _inside._ Organ disease. And the demand was too great, too many could not be saved.

Before long, though, a savior rose like a great phoenix from the crumbling ashes. This man created organs for those who were sick, and quickly became the king of the world and savior of lives.

_(The savior who could not prevent his own extinction, or so the doctors said. He was to die soon, and his children were not worthy of his kingdom.)_

What the world did not know, though, was that their names were signed in blood. Fail to pay, and the hungry dragons came, hungrily ripping the fake heart from your still-beating chest. They were ruthless dragons, and yet they were not. One was the protector of a sick little girl whose mother was killed by the dragon (but it was really the king) - and it stayed that way for seventeen long years.

As the sick little girl watched longingly from her window in the high tower, the world changed. Many people began to change their appearances for the sake of their appearance. The clouds blew in, covering the sun and even the stars. The rivers ran with glowing blue, the ocean with red.

But unlike the stories, the sick little girl wanted to see the world, and left on her own. There was no prince charming - unless you count the Piper, but his princess was not the sick little girl, she was another; the king's precious daughter.

She met many new faces along the way. The powerful king_(dying, slowly dying)_, the mysterious Piper_(led the addicts with Zydrate as his tune)_, the sly king's daughter_(addicted to the knife)_, her gentle godmother_( hidden from her by the dragon)._

Everything seemed alright to the little girl, until the hardships of the king's royal ball. In her deceased mother's best dress, and with her own two little eyes she watched as her newfound godmother lost her eyes once more, learned of the dragon's betrayal. She was even offered the whole kingdom, as long as she killed the dragon. She did not, and watched helplessly as the godmother, king and dragon fell.

_But then the king was dead, the little girl fled, and the castle was left for the taking._


	2. Love

**A/N: Two chapters in one day? What? This is like, unheard of from me. I've never done this, ever. ****End of the world y/n?**

**Anyways.. some of these, like Luigi(weegee, teehee), Pavi (sorta) and Mag were kinda rushed/lazy.. so yeah, sorry.**

* * *

><p><strong>100 Themes Challenge<strong>

_2. Love - Love Makes the World go 'round_

_"God gave us two ears to hear, two eyes to see and two hands to hold. But why did God give us only one heart? Because he wants us to find the other one."_ -Anonymous

* * *

><p><em>Love.<em>

He had loved many things over the course of his life.

He had loved the mothers of all his children, to a degree. They had given birth to his children and had, at one point, been the most important person in his life. All three had passed away long ago, though.

None of them even came close to Marni. Marni was a caring friend, an amazing lover, along with so much more. She had even outshone his own flesh and blood for a while(he thought they didn't notice, but they did, all three of them; especially poor little Carmela), something he would never admit aloud to anyone but himself.

His children. The only things left in his life, other than gold. They had once been his precious, innocent offspring; now they were vultures that (at least in the case of his sons Pavi and Luigi; Amber only had surgery on the brain) only stuck around for GeneCo and the inheritance.

They were the source of his problems, and it was their fault they had become the monsters they were. He held little love for them anymore.

_(Liar, liar.)_

_Love._

He barely understood love.

His own mother had been killed in childbirth because of him. His father obviously favored his siblings. His brother was his rival for GeneCo. His sister was not the sweet little girl he remembered from his past anymore.

No, all he had was the cold, hard steel of the knife's wicked blade.

_Love._

He had an abundance of that, he noted, as he glanced into the mirror he always carried with him. He had a Gentern hanging from each arm(ten out of nine would say the Pavi), the adoration of all the women(and even some of the men), his lovely faces(barely covering his own scarred one), and, of course, the mirror to admire himself with.

Then why did he still feel like something was missing?

_Love. _

Such a foreign concept, a lost novelty of old times before the epidemic that did not seem to exist anymore; at least not in the dark alleyways filled with druggies and graverobbbers, and god knows what else crawling and skittering about along the rain-slicked pavement.

Love only existed for the older people, around since a time when the world was right and slowly shriveling with age together - lucky them.

There was no love left in this world; only sex and money and zydrate. The world of the damned ran on those three things alone; nothing more, nothing less.

_Then why did her heart beat so fast near him?_

_Love._

Something he had lost long ago, along with his parents and his innocence. All he had left was the love market, the drug market, the little glass vial - and _her._

No, no, no. Their relationship was purely work-centric, nothing past that. Sex for zydrate, nothing more.

_(Or so he thinks.)_

But why was it that every time she came in looking different, not like herself, he felt a twinge of - well - something? He remembered the time she first stumbled into his alley, eyes filled with confusion and pain just from a small nose job demanded to be done by _Daddy_. He, knowing just who she was and yet unwilling to just leave her there, offered her a hit of the street-rate glow.

_("First hit's free, kid.")_

For him, love did not exist. His heart was shriveled and blackened with the knowledge of the harsh world, barely left with the capacity for even platonic concern.

No, he did not love her.

_(Denial, denial, denial.)_

_Love._

The only love she had ever known was for her father. She had never known anyone else - she could not even claim to love her mother, since the only thing she knew of her was that her genetics had passed on to damn her daughter's life as well.

Her only love was her father, her only memories were of her father. She still loved him, even after she learned that he was the one who poisoned her blood (not Marni, never Marni), even after learning of his grotesque Repo life, but was that really so wrong?

Although, the only hate she understood was her father as well. She hated him for lying, for hiding, for keeping Mag away, for keeping her away from the world.

But she still loved him.

_Love._

He was a quiet man. A quiet man with a sadistic voice inside his head.

How had someone like him ever earned the love of two such amazing women?

Marni. The love of his life, his wife, his everything; he would have done anything for her. Anything, even died. But he had killed her, murdered her with his own poison and scalpel.

Oh, how he wished he had died instead.

Shilo. All he had left in his life. His precious daughter, a piece of both Marni and himself in a beautiful girl. He would give her the world, if he could - but instead her imprisoned her from it, hid her for his own selfish needs as he tried his best to keep his Repo life a dark secret from his baby girl.

If only he could love someone without hurting them as well...

_Love._

She had been a blind girl lost in the big world. The only one who had ever loved her was Marni - even if that love was just platonic, it was enough for her to thrive on.

The love right before Marni's death.

Her only other love was fleeting. The love for her goddaughter. The girl she had thought to be dead for seventeen years, who she had only truly known for a handful of scattered moments.

The love right before her own death.

Her life may have been void of much love, but it was still life and love nonetheless.


	3. Light

**A/N: I didn't like this theme very much. Started out as Shilo, but only got around 100 words into that, so I changed it to Amber. At about 2 or 3 in the morning (it's now like, 4, and I've been awake for a little over 21 hours). One more down, though!**

**...Only 97 to go... xD**

**I wouldn't say this is my absolute best work, but enjoy anyways!**

* * *

><p><strong>100 Themes Challenge<strong>

_3. Light - Patched-Up Innocence_

_"All things truly wicked start from an innocence." - Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast_

* * *

><p>Carmela Largo.<p>

She had once been innocent. She had once been pure, untainted, had once been Daddy's precious girl. Always trying her best, just another sweet little child like any other you would pass on the cloudy streets.

But not anymore. She had slowly been exposed to the world, torn apart piece by agonizing piece.

It had started when she was five. Her mother (her sweet, caring mother, with the long caramel hair and soft voice that stopped any stray passerby in their tracks) had died. The organ disease had spread too fast - as hard as her father had tried to save her, the damned disease would just jump from one organ to the next, until it claimed her mother's life.

_It was the first time she had truly cried, her face buried in her Daddy's soft suit jacket as a large, calloused hand ran through her blonde curls._

* * *

><p>It had continued when she was a six. When Marni had entered their lives. Marni had taken her father's attention away from her, his only focus on the dark-haired woman beside him. In the mind of the little blonde child, she had been forgotten, cast away for something newer. That didn't stop her from trying to win her father's attention back, though.<p>

Her brothers, as well - even Pavi stopped playing with her, fawning over his eleven-year-old schoolboy crush instead. And Luigi... well, forget Luigi.

_She had always, always hated Marni._

* * *

><p>From there, it had stopped for a while. But that had only been the calm before the storm.<p>

She had gone even further. At the tender age of thirteen, Carmela Largo had begged and pleaded with her Daddy to get surgery. _("Other girls my age have, why can't I!")_ In the end, he gave in, giving her the change she craved. _(He always gave in... he could never refuse his baby girl.)_

It wasn't that big of a change, at least a first. Only two parts. The first was her nose - it had always been much too big to her, had the slightest curve that made her think of the beak of an ugly bird. She had shrunk it down on the first surgery she got, thin nose arching in a small, straight line downwards.

The second was her hair. She had always hated her hair - the only blonde in a family of rich brunettes. Her hair was thin and ugly, at least to herself. She had loved her mother's hair, though - the color, the sheen, everything about it was beautiful. No matter what surgeries she had gotten, her mother had never changed the warm caramel color of her thick hair.

_The hair that sat atop the girl's head was a long, thick mane the color of molten caramel._

* * *

><p>The next big change was at sixteen. She had gotten her first large surgery - a new face - and it hurt like hell. The sensitive muscle underneath the new flesh stung from its previous contact with the sterilized air of the surGEN's clinic, the few quickly-fading stitches temporarily holding her new face up straining <em>every single time<em> her mouth twitched, or her eyes (no longer the dark brown she had been born with, by now they were a vivid green) blinked.

Damn, why was legal Zydrate so diluted? The effects of the clinic's well-known painkiller had faded long ago, leaving the teenage girl with the ache for more.

_She didn't seem to realize it yet, but this was the final step towards breaking - breaking too much to be pieced back together._

_With pieces of herself, that is._

She leaned against a grimy alleyway wall, cradling her aching face in her small hands. For once, she did not seem to care if she got dirty or not - the gut-wrenching agony searing through the tissue of her face probably nullified any vain thoughts at the moment. The petite girl let out a small whimper. Never before had any of her surgeries, even the nose job, bothered her this much.

So why now?

"Hey, kid?"

The words echoed through her head, managing to reach her ears through her hazy, jumbled thoughts. She snapped her head up to glance at him out of instinct, an almost immediate response to the quiet words.

Standing before her was a man - if you could call him that - who couldn't be much older than herself - maybe three years older, at the most. He was tall and slightly lanky, standing at least a good four or so inches over her with her heels on. His skin was startlingly pale, so white that she wouldn't be surprised if he had painted it that color. His eyes and lips, on the other hand, were both a dark color, the latter practically bordering on black. What seemed to be the most unusual, though, was his hair. It was dark and messy, almost damaged, nothing unusual. What was strange, though, were the streaks of color running through his hair, that ranged from blonde (it seemed to be almost bleached) to other more... unusual, unnatural colors. The portion that would have fallen around his thin face was pulled back, revealing an off-white forehead.

What attracted her attention even more than that, though, was the gun clutched in his right hand. It was attached to a glowing blue vial - something that, despite only having seen it in diluted IVs, she recognized almost immediately. It emitted a comforting blue light - the only light shining in her dark world.

It was Zydrate.

She knew who he was now - he was one of _them_, who made a living off of the piles of the dead. Maybe she could put this to use, end her agony- even if only for now.

"Graverobber..."

_Let the twisted addiction begin!_


	4. Dark

**A/N: The first part (the non-italicized half) is a continuation of Light, sorta, and the second part could honestly be any female character, although I originally had a certain one in mind.**

**Also, a big thanks to 5Faces, stiffkittens101, and Karstan for reviewing my past chapters!**

**Okay, then. Enjoy (or maybe don't enjoy, depends) the shortness, and hopefully the next one will come a bit quicker!**

* * *

><p><strong>100 Themes Challenge<strong>

_4. Dark - Corruption_

_It is not fear of the dark, but fear of what lies within the darkness._

* * *

><p>Amber Sweet.<p>

Not longer retaining any innocence. She had been stripped of that over her short years on this earth, facing the pains of harsh reality. Pain _(surgery, surgery)_, death _(Mother and Father, both in their own pine box six feet under)_, humiliation _(her fallen face, now glued to her brother like a mask)_, sex _(Graverobber, Graverobber... sometimes I wonder why I need you at all)_, and drugs _(the haunting blue glow of the little glass vial)_ had each played their own part in the girl's - no, she was a woman now, there was no more father around to treat her as a child - harsh awakening.

She was now corrupted. Twisted, broken, corrupted beyond return. A patched-up plastic doll, with a stitched-on smile.

* * *

><p><em>She hated the dark.<em>

_She always had, since she was young child, and it scared her._

_When there was light, everything was right in front of you. Deep imagination pushed to the hungry, shadowy corners of the world. But once the dark overtook the light, like a caged bird the imagination was set loose._

_And a child's imagination was a horrible weapon. Anything imaginable, anything that had left an imprint in the past was turned dark and twisted, a horror in the poor girl's own mind._

_The dark was her torture, and she hated it._


End file.
